


stand outside my window, throwing pebbles (screaming "I'm in love with you")

by the_strangest_person



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Gilbert Blythe is Whipped, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Marriage Proposal, Misunderstandings, Renew Anne with an E, Season 3 Finale, Shirbert, Sweet, Unrequited Love, What-If, me being a clown thinking this was gonna happen, writing every fanfic i can so i don't break down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:35:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23334721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_strangest_person/pseuds/the_strangest_person
Summary: She was a cyclone ripping through his chest and he was Oh god - so out of his depth. He knew that such a storm deserved better words than those that he had written, not just any, but the best. He wanted to give her the confession of fairy tales, one that she didn't have to read in a book because it was part of their story. Each and every line of his letter felt silly and standing in front of her, he felt like such a fool. His hands fumbled behind him on the dresser, snatching up the paper in his hands and holding it firmly out of sight, an unfamiliar flush taking over his face.or-- Anne comes home early to find Gilbert leaving his love letter in her bedroom --
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 58
Kudos: 359





	stand outside my window, throwing pebbles (screaming "I'm in love with you")

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't seen this exact idea yet, and it has been swimming around in my idiotic brain since the finale, so I forced myself to finally write it...and I'm shirbert trash and can't write about anything else (forgive me).
> 
> title is a lyric from "other side of the door" by our QUEEN Taylor Swift (because every song matches them and you cannot change my mind).

The moment he entered her room, he was consumed in everything that was so very _Anne_.

It was a space that could have been like any other, clean wood furnishings, a lace covering strewn across the bed, china water pitcher, all engulfed in her recognizable sweet scent. But she had left glimpses and clues of everything that made up who she was, like trails of breadcrumbs left to guide him home. His eyes caught onto a tall pile of books on the floor, fashioned as a bedside table for her late night reading. He could picture her staying up in the candlelight, later than allowed, and he wondered if Marilla ever caught her and scolded her halfheartedly. His heart warmed at every decoration : an embroidered cushion, colorful flower crown adorning her bed frame, pine cones, twigs, feathers - all sprinkles of nature that she couldn't bear to let go. He was left wondering if she wanted to seclude herself in a woodland cabin, inviting in every animal and insect as if they were her dearest friends, and if she whispered her dreams to the blossom tree waving through the window. It was an image that he kept tucked away by his heart, knowing that he would soon start dreaming of their life in a woodland cabin, with the joys of mother nature as their only guests.

For now, he committed every detail of her bedroom to memory, a space that smelled of blooming flowers and felt like home.

But not the kind of home that you would associate with a warm fireplace, or a clean bed to collapse into after a tiring day. After all of those months moving coal on a steamship, wondering where life would take him, he now knew that _home_ was just a word without _someone to come back to._

He could feel the lace cloth underneath his fingertips as he set the piece of paper down on her dresser, only hoping that it would safely end up in her capable hands. But as he turned away, his hand brushed another chunk of paper and he looked on the other end of her dresser with furrowed eyebrows at an envelope that suddenly looked so familiar. A post stamp from the Port of Spain, swirly handwriting with his name in the upper left corner, just a letter that he had sent across oceans. But it could never be _just_ a letter, not after the minutes he spent trying to write the perfect opening sentence, wondering if mentioning that he hoped to see her again was too forward, hoping that she would admit the same in return. He convinced himself that it was simple correspondence between friends, snatching it away from his shipmate's curious hands. The clueless sixteen year-old ignored the skin of his neck flushing, protesting to no avail, _it's not a love letter!_ Such a comment now seemed rather silly, a fond smile coming across his face as he looked down at the desperate words that he had written moments ago, offering no more than his entire heart.

 _You fool_ , his heart sighed.

He placed it back down in its rightful place, letting out a shaky breath as she consumed his every thought, swooping and diving around his mind like a hummingbird. She would not give him any peace, neither in any of the years that he had known her, but he suddenly had no taste for anything other than eccentric ideas and infectious laughter. She replayed on his mind as if she was stuck on loop, spinning around in circles until he almost felt dizzy, but in the most exciting way possible.

_"Gilbert?"_

His eyes snapped open, shoulders stiffening.

"Gilbert?" her voice grew closer, "What on earth are you doing here?"

When he turned around, he feared that he would be knocked over by the mere sight of her. She was an enigma, wearing a green dress that he had seen floating through the schoolhouse and her fiery hair was pulled into two simple braids. There was a misty storm brewing within her eyes and standing there, he could almost feel the rain pelting his skin and the wind coursing through his clothes. As she stepped further into the room, her eyes flashed like sparks of lightning and Gilbert wondered how he had managed to get so close to something so untouchable. Nobody would ever wish to stumble into the path of a hurricane but there was something about her destructive beauty that always drew him closer, daring him to step up to the challenge. She was a cyclone ripping through his chest and he was _Oh god_ \- so out of his depth. He knew that such a storm deserved better words than those that he had written, not just any, but the _best_. He wanted to give her the confession of fairytales, one that she didn't have to read in a book because it was part of _their story._ Each and every line of his letter felt silly and standing in front of her, he felt like such a fool. His hands fumbled behind him on the dresser, snatching up the paper in his hands and holding it firmly out of sight, an unfamiliar flush taking over his face.

_"Gilbert?"_

She wanted nothing more than to hate his guts, to push him out of her bedroom and declare that she never wanted to see his face again. It had come easy to her for so many years. In fact, once upon a time she would have snorted at the idea of falling in love with Gilbert Blythe. There had been years of arguing with him, refusing to see him as anything other than her rival, someone that she could never truly care for. She wasn't quite sure what had changed along the way, but with him standing there in front of her, it was impossible to hate him. It was impossible to do anything other than love him and she knew that she always would keep him safe in her heart, even if he could never be hers.

"How can you have nothing to say to me?" she whispered, her eyes filled with pain as she looked at him, "...do you really want us to keep running from this?"

 _Oh Anne, what do you know about want?_ He wanted to whack his head against the wall several feet behind him, to beg her to stop looking at him like that. Over the years that he had known her, he had found it easy to chase after what he wanted with her believing in him, inspiring him to be a better person and to be brave like she always was. But when he spent extra hours studying or discovered his passion for medicine, it still felt like there would always be something missing. His father always told him that being a man, doesn't mean that you never feel weak. The young Gilbert that he once was had laughed, puffing his small chest out to convince his father that he would never feel any weakness. He had tried his best to go after his dreams and to protect those around him, and in some ways it had made him feel stronger every day. After his father died, he was left trying to build his strength back up so that he could become a man. It was only after he watched Anne dancing in front of the bonfire, feeling like he could fall down to his weak knees, that he realized something. That maybe after all of those years of trying to ignore what he truly wanted, diving into the deepest depths, drinking brandy and trying not to wince - maybe he had only been a lost teenager all along. But she was right (like she often was), and although his hands were still shaking, he was tired of running away like that scared little boy.

_"I want you to read this."_

Her eyebrows furrowed at the piece of paper that he was holding out in front of her, his swirly handwriting on the front spelling out her name. All of her bothersome thoughts about Matthew sending her home early faded away, confusion swallowing her bitterness. It was barely larger than what Marilla would typically use to construct a shopping list and she wondered why his hands were trembling so violently.

"You want me to read this?" she felt anger flare up inside of her, spilling out of her belly, "...y-you...have you no decency at all?"

His eyes switched back and forth between the paper in his shaking hands and her disgusted expression, "W-What?"

"You can't even speak to my face! And there I was wishing you congratulations on results day, and you had absolutely nothing to say to me... _about anything_! I'll tell you something - _you're a coward, Gilbert Blythe!"_

He gulped, "Anne, you don't understand, I just wanted to find the right words-"

 _"The right words?"_ she shrieked, cheeks turning as red as the braids that he once tugged, "...how could those words ever be _right_ when you know how they are going to make me feel? I-I would have at least expected you to muster the courage to reply to me in person, and now you're standing here and you're asking me to read this stupid-"

 _"R-Reply?"_ he stopped still, "...Anne what-"

She stepped closer, pointing a finger against his chest, "I get it, okay? I-I know that she is perfect and that you are going to get the future that you've always wanted and I want to be happy for you. I really do want to be happy for you but it's hard when you've been so insensitive lately! First at the ruins and t-then ignoring the letter that I left on the table-"

"Anne, please just-"

 _"Please?"_ she spat, the force of her words sending him stumbling backwards, "...do you know hard it was for me to admit it to myself? To write something like that in a letter and I-I wanted to tell you face to face, at least I had that decency! So you're a _fool_ if you think that I'm going to read whatever your stupid letter says after you brutally ignored my own when I-"

"I didn't get any letter from you!" he finally got her attention, eyes pleading.

She practically growled back at him, "Yes, you did!"

"No, I didn't!"

Her words began to falter, "Yes, y-you must have-"

 _"I didn't!"_ he shook his head insistently, eyes starting to sting, "...Anne, _please_...I have no idea what you're talking about. I never would have-"

Anne felt the fire within her losing strength, his expression too earnest to fuel it, "You didn't throw it away...o-or toss it in a fire?"

"What? _No!_ Anne, _I would never!"_

She kept frowning, unsure if she should believe him, "Then what happened to it? I left it right there on the table, underneath the water pitcher..."

"I don't know!" Gilbert blurted, "I-I really don't know but...Anne, you've got it all wrong. Just read this and you'll understand, it will explain it better than my words ever could."

The note was right there in his hands, another part of the great unknown for her to dive into, but this time she couldn't bring herself to do it. His fingers were still trembling and as she took the paper into her own hands, it didn't take long to notice that her fingers were trembling in return. She wasn't prepared for something so simple to feel so hard, for reading a short letter to feel like standing on the edge of a cliff and looking down at the darkness below. It was terrifying to wonder if she would get a safe landing, or if she would crash into the jagged rocks at the bottom. As she looked down at her name in his handwriting, she could hear every time that he had called her name : sometimes stern, shaky, disappointed, confused, relieved, excited, but above all else - longing for something that she could never understand. As her fingertips ran along the creased edge of her the paper, the sparks of the bonfire flashed in her mind and although the flames were only burning brighter, she was left with her heart crumbling to ashes. The thought of reading his words terrified her more than anything because in a single night, they had broken her heart.

She looked back up at him, eyes filled with tears, _"I-I'm afraid."_

He stepped closer, "Y-You have to read it, I-"

 _"I'm afraid of what it will say..."_ her voice was so small, "...I-I'm afraid because if I read it, it makes it _real."_

"Anne, _please..."_ he uttered breathlessly.

In her gut, she knew that she would have to read it, because even if it ended up breaking her heart, something was on the line for him. It was a cruel game of _show and tell_ , everything hanging by a single thread that had started to wither a long time ago. Everything that she feared would be written out with the ink of her own fountain pen, the perfect image of his future with the school of his dreams and a beautiful woman to stay by his side. Somewhere deep inside of her, she had always known that someday Gilbert would get the life that he deserved, somewhere far away from everything that they shared and perhaps she always wondered when she would be cast aside. But selfishly, she had always hoped that he picked the lesser option. It would be written there clear as day and although she knew it in her heart, reading the words so plainly would make it all so final.

Maybe she wasn't ready to give up the memories, all of the longing looks and the misinterpreted words, moments that she had kept safe within her heart. She wasn't ready to let go of the spelling bees, the words exchanged across oceans, the butterflies in her stomach and blush on her freckled cheeks. But once she read his words, the rose-colored glass would be lifted and she would have to stop pretending that in a different world, he might have grown into loving her in the same way.

_But-_

_Wait._

The rose-colored glass continued to shimmer.

After she had read it eight times through, her teary eyes finally lifted to meet his anxious expression. _"G-Gilbert.."_ she couldn't help but let out a sob.

His voice was so soft, "You got it all wrong-"

"No, I-I...I must have misread, I..." she looked back down at the paper and let her eyes run over it once more, "...t-this can't be-"

Gilbert snatched it away from her hands, stopping her from reading it over and over, _"Anne, stop doing that!"_ he begged, "...it's real and it's true, it's _always_ been true..."

"B-But-"

"But _what?"_ he implored, searching her eyes.

"Y-You can't just-"

 _"I'm in love with you"_ the words rushed out in one breath.

She stopped still, her lips parted as she stared at him. Somewhere in the hazy depths of her mind she could feel a sting on a soft part of her wrist, just more proof that she wasn't in a dream. If she was still dreaming somehow, it would be the cruelest form of torture.

"I'm in love with you..." he blurted once more, his eyes wild and desperate, "...and I know that I should have said it in person first, I should have just come out with it and I certainly should have admitted it a long time ago. And I won't apologize for it..." he shook his head, "...I _can't_ be sorry for it, Anne. I will accept it if you don't feel the same as I do, even if you hate me and never want to see me again, I-I will have to become okay with that-"

"I-I-"

"I meant what I wrote...every single word. But I tried to find the right ones, I-I know that you deserve all of the most beautiful and romantic words, but I'm no poet. I couldn't even say the words and instead of filling the page with my pathetic fantasies and wishes, I-I should have just told it plainly. That's all I need you to know..." his shoulders rose up and down quickly, _"...that it's always been you and I'm a fool for ever making you believe otherwise."_

Once upon a time, Anne longed to be one of the princesses in a fairytale. She wanted to be beautiful, brave and most importantly, to have her own happily ever after. _Prince Charming_ was a phrase that was always used to describe the noble hero, the one person who always did the right thing and found their way in the world with confidence. When she first saw the illustration in her fairy tale books, she had took note of his upright stance and the bright smile on his face with rosy cheeks. After a while it almost looked plastic, something artificial that was nothing more than an ideology in people's minds. But as soon as Gilbert Blythe stepped out of the trees, she started picturing another type of _Prince Charming_ , one that was less sure of himself and whose dark curls were always hopelessly messy. He didn't need to be brave and offer to slay all of her dragons (even though he often did), he only needed to have the right intentions and a good heart. Fairy tales may have had a different idea of the kind of person that would save a princess from her tower, but as Gilbert Blythe span her out of the line when they were dancing, her interpretation had begun to change. She had always wished for a handsome prince to gallop over on their horse, standing outside of her window, throwing pebbles, screaming the words _I'm in love with you_. She pictured running down the stairs and falling into their arms, both of them skipping off into the trees to elope, witnessed only by the spring blossoms. Her own prince was standing in front of her with shaking hands, tense shoulders and eyes that were so familiar. Instead of a grand confession worthy of a fairytale, he had jumbled together all of the romantic words that he could think of, stumbling over his sentences, looking sickly pale.

It was so perfect that she wanted to cry, to commit it all to her memory so that she never forgot the way he was looking at her. If she could write it down in a novel, she would but she could never bear to give their story to anyone else. It may not have been the fairytale of a princess' dreams, but it would always be her favourite story.

Before she could say anything, Gilbert walked over to her dresser and picked up a familiar letter, his voice filled with so much hope, "Why did you keep it after all this time?"

Her voice broke, _"I-I don't know."_

She was lying to herself, in her forbidden thoughts, she had always known the answer. It had been there ever since Diana tried to give the letter away, the panic that rose in her throat at the thought of it ending up in someone else's hands. It was there when she checked on its place in the story club, and staring her right in the face when she couldn't bear to throw it in the bin along with all her other old letters.

He sent her a sad smile, "I'm hoping it's the same reason that I kept yours."

The moment his hand reached up and touched her cheek, she promised herself that she would stop running away from this feeling. As the butterflies danced wildly in her stomach, along to the pounding incoherent rhythm of her heartbeat, she thought herself a fool for ever wanting to _stop_ such a feeling. Gilbert had always found himself drawn to the fire within her soul, wanting her flames to overcome him if it meant that he could be near her. He waited for her to push him away, holding his breath for the moment that it would all come crashing down, but she let her nose brush against his. If he wasn't so caught up in the feeling of his skin against hers, he would have taken the time to count her freckles or the endless shades of blue within her eyes. But _God_ \- as her lips brushed his, her fires ignited inside of his heart and he knew that the single moment would forever keep him warm. In a strange way, it felt like they were dancing. Their lips moving to their own melody, falling together for three seconds and then away for the next. They had always been quick learners and although it started off clumsy and off pace, there was not a single ounce of uncertainty. Among all of the confusion and fear, it was the _safest_ thing either of them had ever felt.

 _"Anne..."_ he almost whimpered when they broke apart, resting his forehead against hers and fearing that the tears would tumble down his cheeks.

She replied in the only way that she knew how, pressing their lips together for another dance. But _pressed_ would not be the right term because they fell together like the waves in an ocean, tumbling, slipping, _crashing_.

"Anne, Anne, Anne..." he all but begged, pulling away to whisper leave a plea against her swollen lips, "...what did your letter say?"

A wicked smile came across her face, teeth sinking into her bottom lip in a way that almost made him lose focus, _almost_. She glanced to the letters that he had left on her dresser, one older than the other but both somehow so important, "...I'm afraid it was not as fanciful as your own. I imagine it would sound rather dull in comparison-"

"That can't be true...", he shook his head immediately, "...you're the writer and while neither of us have been good at expressing our feelings, you have certainly read more confessions and stories filled with romance than I have. I have hardly been given inspiration, Bash proposed in a laundry basket when he was drunk as a-"

"But yours was-"

Gilbert interrupted, "Too hopeful? I really don't think that writing love letters is a strong suit of mine, can't say I've had any practice. But I'll write you something much-"

 _"Don't you dare!"_ Anne gasped, snatching the letter from him and holding it close to her chest, stroking the corners with tenderness, "This is mine and you aren't ever throwing it away or rewriting it! It...It's more than I ever could have dreamed of."

He sighed, "I still want to know what you wrote."

"You don't need to know what I wrote..." she reached up, using her thumb to smooth away the crease in his eyebrows that she immediately caused, "...you just need to know how I feel...how I've always felt."

He waited, eyes filled with more emotion than an entire ocean could hold.

 _"Gilbert Blythe"_ she breathed, _"...I'm hopelessly in love with you."_

He tilted his head in amusement, "What does hopelessly mean?"

_"It means that I don't ever think I'll be able to stop."_

This time, he didn't pay any attention to the rogue tear that slipped from his eyes, not when he had already swooped down and eagerly let their lips meet again. Anne's thumb wiped it from his cheekbone before he could bother to feel embarrassed, then curling around the back of his neck and meeting her fingers so that they could tangle in his dark hair. For years she had tried to stop staring at those messy curls, those soft lips and that blasted chin, but now every movement felt so greedy, her hands grazing every inch of skin that she could find until she memorized every contour of his face. She barely registered Gilbert's arms wrapping around her waist, fingertips digging into the material of her dress, instead she could only focus on how it made her feel. His hands were merciless, desperate as if he could not get enough of the sparks that were exploding around them, but when he traced along her jaw and cupped her cheek, it felt as if he was holding the most delicate glass. In that moment, Anne wanted nothing more than to be treated with delicacy, not as if she could break, but as if she would finally let someone take care of her.

"I thought I was too late..." he admitted, lips grazing her cheekbone.

She shook her head, nose brushing his, "It could never be too late. _Don't you see, Gilbert?_ I-It would never matter to me who I meet, who stumbles into my path, who tries to slay my dragons in the woods...it would never matter to me unless it was _you."_

Just as he leaned in to kiss her once more, the sound of voices downstairs made them both pull apart instantly.

"Anne?" she could hear Marilla calling.

They exchanged nervous glances, Anne shutting her door instantly and putting her finger to her lips so that Gilbert would remain silent. He nodded quickly, a panicked look in his eye at the thought of them getting caught in her bedroom, alone. When Marilla's footsteps sounded close by, they both froze and held their breath nervously.

"Anne? Are you alright?" Marilla knocked gently.

"I'll be down in a minute!" she called in reply, trying to keep her voice as normal as possible, although she somehow felt like an entirely different person. "I'm just...cleaning myself up from picking all that corn."

"Well, alright..." she heard a deep sigh before the footsteps faded away.

They both bit their lips to stop from bursting out into feverish laughter, ecstasy running through them at the predicament that they had gotten themselves into. Anne could see the years ahead of them, both of them trying their best to stay out of trouble but somehow always failing. But she saw them side by side, working through it as the team that they always were, and she knew that they could face anything. Gilbert stepped closer and reached for one of her hands, running his thumb over her knuckles softly and although her hands were just her hands, she knew that they could tear the sky apart if he held the other.

"That was a close one..." he teased in a hush voice, raising an eyebrow, "...I thought I would end up climbing out of your window."

Anne giggled quietly, "Like a prince?"

He winked at her playfully.

She rolled her eyes, grasping his upper arm and pulling him to her door quietly, " _Alright, prince_. I would rather you didn't break any bones, so instead I'll help you sneak through the parlor, casualties avoided."

Gilbert left a soft kiss on her hand, _"As you wish."_

After successfully creeping down the stairs, avoiding the creaky floorboards and escaping through the parlor, they stopped where he had tied up his horse. Under the sunlight, he practically sparkled from within and Anne wondered if he had been dipped in gold. She had forced herself to look away from his profile for a long time, forcing herself to obey the childish wishes of her friend and to remember that he was off limits. It had been so easy to pretend that she was okay with it, that it had been a simple task to stay away from him and push him away at every opportunity. But the moment he said _I'm in love with you_ , she was doomed and perhaps she had been since the very start. Now that his handwriting had spelled out that he thought of her as _his_ , she didn't think she would ever be able to hide how she was feeling again. It was something that she wanted to sing from the top of the chicken coup, or whisper to every single tree in Avonlea, to pray to the moon that she would always remember the moment that Gilbert Blythe called her _his_.

 _"Oh Gilbert..."_ she sighed suddenly, leaning against one of the posts and looking at him with disappointment, "...how I wish we would have been braver. I-I go away to Queens in less than two weeks and we could have spent so much more time together..."

He looked down, "I know."

"What are you going to do now?" she asked.

"I spoke to Miss Stacey about the University of Toronto and she promised to send an urgent telegram to the female doctor that she knows there. I'm hoping that I will somehow get in with my transcripts, as it was all a rather last minute decision...but I haven't heard anything yet."

Anne tried to smile, "Toronto."

He gave her a look, tipping her chin up with his fingers, "I know that it's far...not as far as Paris, but still _far._ But we can spend as much time together as we can before you leave a-and...I'm hoping that we can continue our adventures with writing letters after that. Although hopefully none of them will get lost."

Her eyes brightened, "They say practice makes perfect."

"I don't know what the future holds, Anne..." his thumb curled upwards and brushed over her jaw, "...all I know is that _I want you in it_ , no matter how far apart we are."

 _"Gilbert Blythe..."_ she shook her head, intertwining their fingers, "...you _are_ my future."

"Why does this feel like something is ending?" he chuckled, but his eyes were full of regret as he wrapped his fingers tighter around hers.

Anne shook her head, the sun dousing them both in liquid gold, _"...It feels like the beginning of something wonderful."_

Once upon a time, although not too long ago, she was saved by a stranger in the woods. A stranger that was admittedly handsome, a little too-sure of himself, offering more kindness than she had ever received. She had always told herself that she wasn't sure what had changed along the way, but if she said it again, she would be lying to herself once more. The clues were hidden amongst spelling bees, arguments, truces, intense glances, miscommunication, fear, an exhilarating dance, a confusing fair, a disastrous bonfire, all ending with the most romantic words that her mind could have imagined. The simple answer, was that _they had changed_. Now as she looked at the Gilbert that had become so familiar to her, it felt like reading the first chapter of a story and already knowing that it would become her favorite book.

**Author's Note:**

> someone needs to stop me from writing multiple fanfics a day
> 
> \- jodie
> 
> p.s. leave a comment and I'll be your best friend


End file.
